


Dead End Angels

by FLEISCHGEWEHR



Category: Rammstein
Genre: Alternate Universe - Noir, Developing Relationship, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Prostitution, Trans Female Character, admission of feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:08:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28245942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FLEISCHGEWEHR/pseuds/FLEISCHGEWEHR
Summary: "Just say how it is, Landers." She fell to his side again, taking his face in her palm and looking in his eyes. He felt cornered, no way to run.
Relationships: Paul Landers/Christoph Schneider | Doom
Comments: 3
Kudos: 27





	Dead End Angels

**Author's Note:**

> Cliche noir sappiness about detective Herr Landers and savior of his soul Frau Schneider.   
> Inspired by the album "Sunset Mission" by Bohren & Der Club Of Gore. Specifically tracks "Darkstalker" and "Nightwolf".

His fingers still were trembling after the fight. It's been an hour now, blood caked on his knuckles, wounds and bruises slowly coming alive with stinging all over his body. To be perfectly honest, he should be at a hospital right now or at least on his couch at home, licking his wounds and falling into misery. But some things never change. Like his luck in getting into trouble on odd jobs or jumping in the arms of his angel every time he feels his sanity slipping away. *His* angel is a pretty bold statement. Paid per hour angel. Your slice of heaven for a couple of bills in the most unexpected place. The darkest corner of the city, smearing with desperation and covered in fallen. He never said his angel was one with working wings. 

"Door on the left," a new face behind the makeshift counter said. As if he needs directions. He would be able to find his way even after losing both eyes, which might happen sooner than later with the amount of life threatening encounters he's getting lately. 

Quiet knock on the painfully familiar door  
It's unnecessary; others wouldn't bother. He's not others. He still feels that he needs an allowance to be near the person currently shuffling in a hurry behind the door. 

With a turn of a knob, here she is. Beautiful as ever, curls bouncing in motion around her face. Slightly squinting, she gave him a broad smile with her red lips, a genuine one this time. Without a wait or a word of welcome she threw herself in his arms, pressing their bodies together and whispering soft nonsense. The warmth brought some relief but mostly to his soul as his body again signaled about the harm that was done to it. He huffed out choked whines, hugging her tall lean body with his trembling hands. She felt that, heard as well, instantly pushing herself away and looking at him with a more sober look. Pity filled her beautiful pale blue eyes. He hated this look, but this time it was deserved so he only smiled with bloody lips and entered the room, not ready to answer any questions from the hall. 

She took him by the hand and led towards a large bed with a red duvet on it. "Should I ask? Or is it another secret?" Her voice was soft with sadness yet it cut him sharply. He swallowed and sat on the edge of the bed, adjusting to the familiar darkness of the room. They had been through this millions of times. She fetched a small medkit from underneath the bed. It wasn't there when they started oh so long ago, but as time went by, she made one for the nights like this. When pleasure of body was replaced with something he was clearly underpaying for.

"It's nothing serious. Just got outnumbered and unlucky," he answered with the usual; details won't change the pattern. She huffed in annoyance and stopped for a second, putting her long curls behind an ear and calming herself.   
"Well, if you say so, darling." She returned trying to sound as uninterested as she could manage. But her voice went lower, he knew this sign. He caught her hand in his and brought it to his face, placing a gentle kiss at her palm, slightly squeezing her long fingers in his in an act of appreciation. He felt a soft pad of her thumb running across his scruffy cheek. Little affections like this were only for him to feel. She took his hand and gently touched broken skin on his knuckles, examining the damage. He didn't flinch, studying her face in return. He was feeling his soul finally find peace in her features, forgetting all the rush and fear of the evening. 

She frowned and picked antiseptic, starting work on cleaning his wounds. A small smile returned on her red lips. "I should start charging more money from you for all the nurse services."   
"Then I will starve to death right on your bed. You already have everything."  
She huffed a laugh and moved to his second hand, repeating the process.   
"Another word like this and I would think that you're in love with me, Paul," she scolded him, but a quick glance of her bright eyes and he knew that she knew. The truth they pretend is never here. An elephant in the room, watching every time they make love on those sheets. 

He answered nothing. There was no point to it. 

Done with his hands, she moved up and placed a soft kiss on his lips, a tender and caring one, avoiding hurting him too much on the bruised lips.   
"Should I pay for this too?" He instantly felt the pain in his chest as she pushed him away with her hand, being offended by the question, a spark of playfulness in her eyes. But it quickly faded away into more concern when he whined painfully and winced, grabbing himself underneath the ribs. Her eyes followed his hand and she gasped in horror, seeing a blood spot and cut open fabric. "Oh Paul.."  
"This is fine, Chris. Just a scratch." He rarely used her real name but today he couldn't care less to pretend to keep boundaries.   
"Now you're getting stabbed? Next week are you gonna drop on my bed with a bullet wound??" her tone went higher as she quickly started unbuttoning his shirt. No more pretending on her face, only genuine fear for his miserable life.   
"I didn't get stabbed. Just a small cut. He was swinging a damn knife like a psycho and I got caught. It's fine." He winced again, shutting his eyes from the burning sensation of her fingers gently feeling bleeding, ripped skin. She pursed her lips, getting her emotions under control, and began to clean the wound and apply bandages. Like many years ago, he was mesmerized by her ability to do that. To be able to turn her blood cold when needed, get the job done and never fall apart. Something never changed and it made their positions even more ironic. 

"Thank you," he almost whispered when she was done. She huffed, trying to block his words from getting deep inside her. But that was the one thing they had in common, as she failed at this task and pushed him down on the bed, more gently this time. Crawling on top of him, not touching his wounds and kissed him again, with a little bit more passion. He answered, sliding his hands along the familiar body, talking initiative. He lowered her on her back on the covers, caressing the soft skin of her cheek with his fingers. She smiled. Warm, so familiar, so close. He never had a doubt that this smile belonged to him only and nobody else. So he claimed it with another kiss. Gently caressing her lips, hand resting on her thigh making him drunk with the idea that he can touch her anywhere he wants and she'll enjoy it.   
"Are you going to make love to me?" She whispered in his lips, hugging him around the neck, fingers playfully fiddling with his hair. Her legs parted slightly, pushing his hand up, making him notice a slight raise of interest already present in her pants.   
"Am I not already?" He only huffed a laugh and locked their eyes. Sparkles shined in hers, bringing fire to his. He kissed her again, and again, and again. Their hands wandered across each other but never pushed further. 

Time lost its meaning. It was now quiet outside as the outskirts of the city fell at night's rest. She was lying on his chest, breathing calmly with her eyes closed. He couldn't tell if she was asleep or just enjoyed his closeness. It didn't matter. Nothing really did at the moment. Only her being beside him, gently absorbing each other's warmth. He kept stroking her thigh with his fingers, lost in deep thought. They never got naked; somehow today was different. 

After a while, he felt slight movement as she shifted beside him and placed her hand on his chest, starting drawing patterns with a finger. Finally she broke the silence with a dreamy voice. "Remember back in academy how you were always picked on for your height, and one time those three idiots - can’t remember their names - cornered you and you gave them a hell of a fight. Ended with a broken nose, bruises and torn clothes. Like you just escaped from a tiger cage." She stopped drawing, now just gently stroking his skin with her palm and looked up at him.   
He quietly laughed and closed his eyes, remembering exactly what she was talking about. "I was so angry. Couldn't control myself or understand anything. Just fought until there was nobody left."  
"You always do." She nodded and lay her head back to his chest, near his heart making it start beating slightly faster.   
"And then you came to me. Not the medbay or principal. I just finished my training and was changing when this beast entered the locker room. Blood all over your face, eyes burning with fire. I was ready to drop on my knees right then and there." She laughed and yelped when he pinched her thigh, a smile on his lips and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. "There was no other place for me to go. Not back then, not now."   
"I wish I could have seen that earlier." She answered quietly, pressing herself closer to him. Vivid memories dragged them into another silence. 

"Have you thought about going back?" Next time it was him who broke it.   
"To the police academy?" She looked at him, light confusion in the voice.   
"Normal life. No selling yourself, no fear of being stomped by a stranger." He took her face in his palm, looking deeply inside sky blue eyes.   
"And who would be willing to give a chance to start a new life to a trans ex cop?" She swiftly looked away, almost tearing herself away from his soft touch. It came out so bitter that she herself was confused about where it came from. She blinked and looked at him again, asking a silent question. What was it? Am I that gone? 

His chest tightened. "I do. Always has been, always will be. And if it's not enough, you can use me to fly away."   
"And what if ll fail? What if normal is something I can never be?" She pushed herself up and sat near him, looking serious and focused.   
He took her hand in his, intertwining their fingers. All the thoughts running through his mind, trying to form into the right words, express what he saw that she seemed to have already forgotten about herself. His chest filled with growing warmth, a pull that he no longer could resist. He felt that it was now or never. The moment he always wanted, but was so afraid of.   
"Chris." He called for her, instantly bringing her back to reality from underneath the weight of heavy thoughts. "Run away with me." He felt shame from the silliness of the words but continued with determination to come through. "I'll be your normal. I'll help. I'll..." He frowned, tightening the grip on her hand. He wasn't the most eloquent with his words and felt shame in saying things like this. But every worry disappeared when he heard her laughing. Carefree and happy.   
"Just say how it is, Landers." She fell to his side again, taking his face in her palm and looking in his eyes. He felt cornered, no way to run.   
"I..." He swallowed. She was smiling, waiting passionately. "I love..you..." His cheeks blew up with redness and he looked away in shame. Suddenly the weight of her body disappeared from him and he glanced around the room in confusion. She was fast moving around, digging inside a heavy wooden wardrobe, picking up stuff and changing clothing.  
"Where are you going..?" he asked dumbly.   
"We're running away, Paul. Or have you already forgotten?" She looked at him. Her cheeks were glowing with a blush, a smile on her beautiful lips, making his heart skip a bit,and he just stared in awe. She laughed at him and threw his torn shirt in his face. "Get ready, lover. I'm not waiting a second more!" 

Minutes later, hand in hand, they were sneaking past the sleeping worker behind the counter, a little suitcase of stuff in one hand and his angel in another. They stepped outside in the first light of the new day and chill morning air. He felt if he would let go, she would instantly fly away, feeling freedom in her feathers. Instead she pressed herself closer to the smaller man and sighed wearily. They didn't talk, never discussed where exactly they were running away as it didn’t really matter, silently walking towards some destination. He caught their reflection in the closed windows of a shop. Two unlikely lovers, lone souls pushed to each other by the flow of the city. Awaiting the green light, he felt her cold winter breath on his neck and still presented soft smile. Henceforth forever his. Fingers slightly stroking each other's hand in a small desperate display of affection.


End file.
